


ROYAL GARDENER KIDNAPS LOCAL PICKPOCKET YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

by taywen



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Corvo the Royal Kleptomaniac, Gen, Original Character-centric, Self-Indulgent, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taywen/pseuds/taywen
Summary: Look, the old man seemed like the perfect mark, all right? How was Sylvio supposed to know a scarred up guy like that was the Royal Gardener?





	ROYAL GARDENER KIDNAPS LOCAL PICKPOCKET YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estora/gifts).



> Lilith belongs to Estora; you should definitely check out "kingdom up for sale" if you want to see more of her! this fic takes place a few years after "kingdom".

Honestly, Sylvio wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here. He wasn’t ungrateful, exactly - though the Outsider knew the Royal Gardener and his daughter could be _trying_ \- but every morning when he awoke in his apartment near the Palace he still laid in bed for several minutes, overwhelmed by disbelief and a fair bit of confusion.

Everyone had heard the rumours of the new Duke’s Royal Gardener, of course; and his existence as a figure of considerable mystique was only further cemented when he put down a would-be assassin with a pair of shears. But somehow Sylvio had never considered that he would cross paths with the man on the streets of Batista, else he would have paid better attention to the scar carved into his latest mark’s aging face rather than his cane and slightly limping gait.

The girl at his side made Sylvio as he was slipping into the crowd with the old man’s coin pouch tucked away much more securely on his own person, but she only stared at him with silent, unnerving intensity. The lack of alarm rising behind him had convinced Sylvio he was safe, and he ducked into a nearby alley to check on his spoils.

Sylvio knew how the old man had followed him so swiftly in spite of his limp _now_ , but at the time he’d been frozen in surprise, the coin pouch held, damning, in his hands, when he found the old man in front of him.

One corner of the man’s mouth turned up as the silence stretched out. “Never been caught before?” His voice was rough— a miner who’d spent his working years breathing silver dust, _maybe_. That would’ve been Sylvio’s guess, given their location, if not for the fact that the man had tracked him so easily.

Sylvio had been caught before, but it had never been so easy for the mark to find him. There was the chase, and calls for the Grand Guard, and cries from passersby as those involved ran past. This was— ridiculous. Impossible.

He’d been in brawls before too, though he made a point to avoid them whenever possible. What followed couldn’t even be called that; Sylvio was on the ground in a matter of moments, smarting all over from the impossibly swift strikes of the man’s cane. Nothing was broken - Sylvio was intimately familiar with the pain of a broken bone - but he wouldn’t be moving any time soon.

“What should I do with you?” The man had met Sylvio’s watery-eyed glare calmly, leaning on his cane just beyond Sylvio’s reach. He was barely even breathing heavily, which was just insult to injury at this point, but he hadn’t called the Grand Guard and, ugly scar aside, he didn’t look openly murderous. Didn’t mean he wasn’t, of course, but he didn’t look it.

“He was fast.” The girl’s voice had been cool, her eyes - the same as the man’s eyes, was she his granddaughter? - seemingly indifferent as she looked down at him from the mouth of the alley.

The man grunted, shifting his weight, and the cane was already coming down when Sylvio managed to turn his head—

Sylvio still couldn’t believe he hadn’t woken up in prison, and his disbelief had only grown when he found out who, exactly, he’d tried to rob. He’d considered stealing from people like Paolo or Aramis Stilton before, but he was practical enough to know what an insane idea that was for an overgrown street rat kid like him.

And then, all unknowing, he’d tried to rob the _former Knife of Dunwall_ , who just so happened to be the - boyfriend? partner? lover? - of the _Duke of Serkonos_.

Turned out all right, in the end, but Sylvio couldn’t shake the feeling that the other boot had yet to come down. Good things didn’t happen to people like him; that was just how the world worked.

* * *

When Sylvio emerged from the bedroom, he found Lilith sitting at his table— in the only chair of the mismatched set that didn’t wobble and creak in protest when anyone so much as looked at it, naturally.

“You didn’t get it.” Rather than the petulant tone one would have expected from a child of her age and status, there was only cool disapproval in her voice.

“You can’t expect me to find an original Sokolov overnight,” Sylvio tried, making a beeline for the bowl of fruit on the counter. He still wasn’t used to constant, ready access to fresh food like this; much less supplied from the royal gardens themselves. What he _was_ more or less accustomed to after several months in the Royal Gardener’s employ was Lilith showing up at random hours, sometimes unescorted but usually with Daud lurking nearby, and her complete disregard for the sanctity of his apartment aside from his bedroom.

He’d given up asking her to at least knock. Probably shouldn’t have led her unofficial lessons on criminality with lockpicking. He’d only had to ask once why Daud and Lilith didn’t just visit him together; Lilith’s simultaneously blank and disapproving look had put an end to that line of inquiry.

“I told you it was here. What more do you need?” It sounded so reasonable, as if he was the one with unrealistic expectations.

“Karnaca is a big city,” Sylvio countered. “I can’t go asking around about an obscure painting and steal it in the same night.”

Lilith’s eyes narrowed, but her gaze wasn’t focused on him and she picked out an orange when Sylvio held the bowl out for her, so that probably meant she wasn’t too annoyed with him. He ate his apple as she began to peel the orange with brisk, efficient movements.

“Why do you need it so soon anyway?”

Lilith did glare at him then: obviously, it was none of his business.

“All right,” Sylvio muttered, tossing the bare core into the wastebin. “We should get back before you’re late for your lessons. Shoshana disapproves of me enough as is.”

* * *

“It was under your nose the whole time,” Lilith said a few nights later. Her accusatory tone was somehow worse than Shoshana’s, who Sylvio could tune out with the ease of long practice. He’d had adults scolding him for years, and even if he was technically among their number now, most of them didn’t treat him like it anyway.

“Look.” Sylvio glanced over his shoulder, checking various high, dark places for any sign of Daud. “How many people can have a massive— thing,” he quickly amended, “for Daud? It doesn’t make sense. You can’t expect me to expect that.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like him too.”

“Not like _that_.” Sylvio ducked down below the lip of the roof as a person smoking in the road below looked up at his loudly hissed protest.

Lilith remained where she was, watching the target’s apartment across the road without concern. “He’s an asshole, so it must be his looks.”

Sylvio politely bit back his response about that running in the family and rejoined her in watching the apartment. It was only a couple of blocks from his own flat, which _was_ pretty embarrassing, all things considered.

“Shoot him with a sleep dart,” Lilith ordered as their target stepped out onto his balcony.

“I’m not going to— What if he falls and breaks his neck?”

“Corvo would understand. He doesn’t like competition.”

Sylvio glanced at her sidelong, trying to gauge her sincerity. Equal odds whether she was messing with him or simply telling the truth. Or both; Lilith seemed to particularly enjoy when she could do both.

Lilith turned to scowl at him. “You missed your chance.”

Sure enough, the man had returned to the dubious safety of his apartment. Shrine to the Knife of Dunwall might be a more accurate description; Sylvio could see the painting from here, along with a few posters from when Daud was a wanted assassin.

As they watched, the lights of the apartment went out one by one, until the windows were dark. The smoker had gone back inside as well, leaving the road deserted aside from a Grand Guard patrolling at the far end.

Sylvio had been wary of teaching Lilith at first, but she’d had a lot of the skills that came with Sylvio’s line of work already, and picked up the others Sylvio had taught her with ease. They made their way to the building opposite without incident; Sylvio had to pull Lilith up to the next handhold once, an indignity that she bore with stoic resentment, but otherwise she climbed the entire way herself.

Slipping down to the balcony in question was simple, and the doors weren’t even locked. Lilith frowned at that, but Sylvio was grateful for it. Less chance of getting caught.

“What are you doing?” Lilith spoke even more quietly than usual, but in the silence of the apartment she was perfectly audible.

Sylvio paused, his knife poised at the edge where the frame met the portrait. “I can’t carry the frame too.”

“It’s a block to your apartment.”

“Two blocks. And I’ll look way too conspicuous.”

Lilith stared at the portrait. _Daud and the Parabola of Seasons_ , apparently. Why all that nonsense after Daud’s name was necessary, Sylvio couldn’t begin to fathom.

“Fine. I’ll get another frame.”

Sylvio cut the canvas away from the frame, rolling it up and tucking it into the bag he’d brought along for occasion.

When he turned back, his heart nearly stopped. Lilith was gone. She wasn’t anywhere within sight, though the darkened room left plenty of shadows for her to hide in. Lilith skipped out on his lessons - and Shoshana’s - whenever she felt like it, but this little escapade had been her idea from the beginning—

“Put this in your bag.”

Sylvio bit back a string of curses and rounded on Lilith. “Where were you?!”

Lilith shushed him pointedly, stuffing what felt like everything and the kitchen sink into his bag alongside the portrait.

“What’s all this?” Sylvio demanded at a lower register as his heartbeat began to slow.

“Valuables. This way he won’t know we came specifically for the portrait.”

“Good thinking.” Sylvio hefted the bag carefully; the contents made a muffled sound, but it wasn’t too conspicuous.

Lilith stepped past him onto the balcony. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Knocking woke Sylvio the next morning. It was an improvement over Lilith just showing up at his apartment whenever the mood struck her— maybe. Daud had the courtesy to knock, but he was also crouched outside Sylvio’s bedroom window, visibly impatient, when Sylvio opened the curtains.

“Good morning,” Sylvio said cautiously, though he had a feeling it would not be.

Daud ducked inside, surveying Sylvio’s sparse room with an impassive face. All the same, it felt as if Sylvio had failed some kind of test. Daud’s gaze sharpened as he turned it back to Sylvio himself.

“Where were you last night?”

Sylvio straightened up instinctively, for all that he’d never spent any time at all in a group or institution that expected discipline. Something about Daud just brought it out in him at times. He managed not to glance towards his bed - and the portrait stashed beneath it - through sheer force of will.

“We went out into the city for so Lilith could experience a practical application of her lessons,” Sylvio said, repeating the excuse he had overheard Shoshana use to justify taking Lilith to the Royal Conservatory.

Daud narrowed his eyes; Sylvio managed not to fidget. “How did the girl do?”

“Lilith was great.” Sylvio left out the part where he’d momentarily lost track of her. Daud would probably approve, but there was always the chance he’d react like a more conventional parent and get angry about the lapse. Best not to risk it.

“Good,” Daud said.

Sylvio nodded, trying not to sweat too visibly.

“Corvo caught her slipping back in this morning, so don’t come around the palace for a few days,” Daud added.

Sylvio blinked. “Uh, what did you tell the Duke I was teaching her—?”

“How to mingle with the lower classes.”

“Right,” Sylvio said faintly. Not technically a lie, but certainly not the whole truth. “I’ll come around the usual time next week?”

“Gives him some time to cool down,” Daud agreed.

* * *

“You should pickpocket Corvo,” Lilith said the next day, not even giving Sylvio a chance to greet her when he came out of his bedroom.

“Pardon?” Sylvio moved past her into the kitchen proper, filling the kettle so he could boil some water. He needed tea if he was going to survive this conversation.

Lilith made an impatient noise. Three oranges dismantled in precise, exact pieces lay across the table before her. The individual segments were arranged in lines, interspersed by unnervingly uniform pieces of torn skin.

Sylvio pretended not to notice Lilith’s glower as he took a slice and ate it; she didn’t seem inclined to do so, and it would be a waste to leave it.

“Why?” Sylvio tried again a few moments later, when it became obvious Lilith wasn’t about to speak.

“Corvo was a pickpocket before.” Lilith revealed the startling fact as if it were due no more notice than the weather or some other utterly mundane topic. “But I’m sure you’re better.”

Sylvio ate a few more segments of orange mechanically as he turned that information over in his mind.

“I don’t know…” He couldn’t keep the doubt out of his voice.

He’d seen Daud and the Duke sparring once, the Duke keeping pace easily with Daud, who was slowed down by at least two major injuries that Sylvio was aware of. The Duke didn’t have any old wounds that visibly troubled him, so he was probably even faster than Daud. Lilith had implied that the Duke didn’t pick pockets any more - and why would he, considering his position - so he probably wouldn’t notice Sylvio stealing from him. But the Duke could definitely beat Sylvio up without breaking a sweat if he did catch him in the act. Or set the Grand Guard on him. Or just dismiss Sylvio from his service. There were any number of ways for the Duke to make Sylvio regret even considering Lilith’s proposal.

“Don’t overthink it. Consider it a test. Prove that you can pickpocket Corvo without anyone seeing.” Unlike the time Sylvio had tried to rob Daud and was spotted by Lilith, was the obvious implication.

“He only had twenty coin in that pouch anyway,” Sylvio muttered, scowling at the memory.

“I’m sure Corvo’s pockets will have more interesting and valuable contents.” Lilith smirked, belying any consolation Sylvio might have foolishly imagined in her words.

“All right,” Sylvio conceded, as they both knew he would. “But Daud told me to stay away from the palace for the rest of the week.”

Lilith’s expression soured. “That’s acceptable,” she allowed, but it really didn’t sound like it was. She glanced at the clock, her scowl deepening, and left in a hurry.

Sylvio let out a breath and went to turn off the stove. Tea wouldn’t be enough; he had to go lie down and contemplate exactly what insanity he’d just agreed to.

* * *

Sylvio was granted a reprieve in the form of the Duke departing on an urgent diplomatic visit to Bastillian. Daud requested his presence full-time at the palace as a result; apparently Shoshana had arranged to take the week off months ago, and Daud was too busy acting in the Duke’s stead to mind her.

Not that Lilith _needed_ minding, nor - as the night of the portrait theft had proven - could Sylvio have kept proper track of her if Lilith had truly wanted to slip away. Fortunately - for a given definition of the word - Lilith seemed content with bullying Sylvio into _improving his literacy_. He regretted ever letting it slip that he could barely read or write.

“Your writing is terrible,” Lilith said flatly, glaring at the rows of shaky sentences that she’d set him as if they had personally offended her.

If anyone had earned the right to take offense, it was Sylvio. Lilith’s perplexed expression whenever he asked her about a word he encountered that he didn’t recognize and the way she looked down upon his embarrassing excuse for writing only made him more discouraged. He knew his writing was terrible, but that didn’t mean he wanted to _hear_ it.

Lilith glanced up at him, frowned, and pushed the sheet of paper aside. “I found a frame for Daud’s portrait,” she announced, standing.

Sylvio latched onto the new subject gratefully, hurriedly closing the book of children’s tales that Lilith herself had probably been reading these by the time she was three. “Where is it?”

The frame was somehow gaudier than the one the fanatic had had, a noteworthy accomplishment to be sure. Between the two of them, they managed to get the portrait into the frame - after several tries.

“It’s hideous,” Sylvio said once they were done. The portrait was straight - if one tilted one’s head and squinted - but it wasn’t about to roll back up and undo their efforts to secure it to the frame as it had the first few times, and that was what counted.

“It is,” Lilith agreed with uncharacteristic glee. “I want it put up outside Corvo’s office.”

Sylvio blinked, bemused, but followed Lilith through the Palace to the proper corridor without protest.

The members of the Grand Guard stationed on either side of the office’s door glanced at them as Lilith directed Sylvio where to hang the painting, but made no comment.

“Good,” Lilith decided, surveying the wall with a critical eye.

It wasn’t, really— the portrait itself was straight now, but only because the frame was hung at an angle.

Sylvio frowned at it. Lilith had been directing him, but perhaps he’d been blocking her from seeing the full, terrible effect while he was hanging it. “I can—”

“It’s perfect,” Lilith interrupted, glancing towards the stairs. Several voices were audible, and getting closer— Daud, and at least two other people that Sylvio didn’t recognize. “I forgot the nameplate in my room, it should be in my desk.”

“That’s not really—” Sylvio tried, but a sharp look from Lilith had him moving before he’d made the conscious decision to do so.

Sylvio knew where Lilith’s room _was_ ; Daud had given him a tour of the Palace, the look on his face almost daring Sylvio to even think about stealing something, back when Daud had first offered him a job. The thought had been the furthest thing from his mind; he’d catalogued valuables as they went, of course, a habit so ingrained by now that it came as easily as breathing, but there weren’t many items of interest at all, considering where they’d been. What had occupied his mind was a pervading sense of disbelief that he was in the Palace at all— that he hadn’t had to sneak in, that he’d been _invited_.

That disbelief lingered now, fading at times but never fully gone. As he made his way unmolested to the Duke’s private floor, the feeling resurged. The guards watched him, though the servants he passed paid him little attention, but none of them tried to stop him from reaching that wing of the Palace.

The guards did bar him from entering Lilith’s room, which was to be expected, really.

“Well, maybe one of you can look for it,” Sylvio found himself saying after they refused to listen to his reasoning for going into Lilith’s room. He had to consciously resist the urge to cringe in front of them; the officer on duty had appeared at some point, and the three guards stationed on the floor regularly were all gathered nearby.

“What’s taking so long?”

Sylvio twitched, turning swiftly to find Lilith standing at his elbow. “Uh, I—” He glanced at the guards; the cause of the delay was fairly obvious.

The officer stepped forward. “Lady Lilith—”

“I trust I am allowed entrance to my chambers?” Lilith inquired coolly, cutting the man off.

“Of course, milady—” The regular guards, sensing the shifting waters, had found elsewhere to patrol, leaving the officer the sole focus of Lilith’s unimpressed stare.

“Never mind that.” She turned to Sylvio. “We have to move the portrait. I don’t like the lighting in that hallway.”

* * *

The next few days proceeded in a similar fashion. Sylvio ended up familiarizing himself with the Palace’s strange layout from all the running around Lilith had him doing, which was certainly a benefit he appreciated. The tour half a year earlier had been thorough, but the numerous stairways and split levels had always given Sylvio something of a headache. It didn’t make _sense_ , and he liked knowing the quickest way out of any given building he was in.

Granted, as long as he could find a window or a balcony, he could always just jump into the bay, but he wasn’t the strongest swimmer either.

The fourth time Lilith asked him to move the portrait in as many days, Sylvio couldn’t help raising his eyebrows. Lilith had strong opinions that he was used to obeying, but she didn’t often go back on a decision once she’d made it. For her to change her mind three times, after she’d declared the previous efforts more than adequate, was—

“Please,” Lilith muttered, looking almost sheepish. She hadn’t even offered any explanation for why the latest placement was wrong this time, simply insisting that she didn’t want it hanging in the foyer.

“All right.” Sylvio’s skill at hanging portraits had improved as well, which was to say that he managed to hang it straight on the first or second try even with Lilith providing dubiously helpful suggestions.

They moved it to the dining hall, and then Lilith disappeared somewhere, leaving Sylvio at loose ends.

He was wandering around the upper terrace, his book abandoned beside a chair in favour of the view of Karnaca across the water, when Daud found him.

“Where is it.” Daud’s harsh voice from right behind him made Sylvio jump. How the old man managed to get around as silently as his daughter, with his bad knee and - on especially bad days - a cane, was the real mystery.

Sylvio stumbled, desperately ungraceful, as he spun around. The corner of Daud’s mouth lifted, but the scowl to match his tone returned a moment later.

“Where’s what?” Sylvio asked blankly.

“The portrait.”

“Which—?” Sylvio was still caught on Daud’s sudden appearance.

“Mine,” Daud gritted out.

“The Sokolov?”

Daud’s frown deepened, like he thought Sylvio was deliberately wasting his time.

“It’s in the dining hall,” Sylvio said quickly, then bit the inside of his cheek to stop from spilling that Lilith had been the one who had wanted it moved constantly. It was probably her way of teasing her father, as indirect and seemingly innocuous as so many of their interactions were; Sylvio should have seen it sooner.

Daud turned on his heel and stalked away, no trace of a limp in his gait; he was pretty angry about this, apparently. After a second of stunned relief, Sylvio hurried after him. Daud had enough of a head start that he should have entered the Palace before Sylvio could even round the corner to see the door, but Sylvio found him stopped at the threshold by none other than the Duke.

“Enjoying yourself?” The Duke’s voice was grave as ever, befitting his station, but the grin on his face ruined the effect.

The only indication of Daud’s surprise was the slight lift of his shoulders; he had his back to Sylvio, so it was impossible to see his face. “When did you get back?”

Sylvio casually sidled back around the corner. He felt vaguely guilty, though it wasn’t the first time he’d seen the two together. He’d walked in on them in a compromising position in the library only a few weeks into his tenure as Lilith’s tutor, though Lilith’s annoyed, put-upon sigh had saved Sylvio from making some embarrassing interruption of his own. This wasn’t nearly as awkward; there was still a few inches of space between the Duke and Daud, at least.

Then he remembered that Lilith had challenged him to pickpocket the Duke; that he’d been foolish enough to accept. Suddenly, his unease made sense.

“A few minutes ago?” The Duke’s amusement was obvious in his voice now.

Daud grunted, an exasperated sound, but Sylvio scuffing his feet conspicuously as he walked into their view halted the conversation before it could get any further.

Sylvio blinked in surprise that wasn’t entirely feigned; Daud and the Duke had managed to close most of the distance that separated them in a matter of seconds. He dropped his gaze as he bowed - not entirely proper, but the Duke wasn’t such a stickler for ceremony. “Your Grace.”

Daud’s scowl had returned when Sylvio straightened.

“Sylvio.” The Duke’s face was more difficult to read, and his neutral tone was no help either.

“Please excuse me,” Sylvio mumbled, averting his eyes.

The Duke put a hand on Daud’s arm, urging him back onto the terrace; Sylvio could almost feel Daud’s glare burning into the side of his face as he moved past them, towards the now-empty doorway.

Daud sighed, the sound somehow brimming with annoyance, and began to turn back to the Duke; there was usually at least one guard in eyesight around the Duke at all times, but he seemed to have slipped his escort for the moment. Sylvio wouldn’t get another prime chance like this soon; he shifted his weight, his hand outstretched towards the Duke’s pocket—

“Wh—” Sylvio found himself staring up at bright blue expanse of the sky a second later, pinned there by an implacable weight. The Duke’s face loomed into view, handsome features twisted up in outrage.

“You invited a pickpocket into our home for _months_ ,” the Duke said, staring at Sylvio but speaking to Daud.

“It was— reflex,” Sylvio blurted out, barely managing to keep Lilith’s name out of it. Probably wouldn’t help in any case; Daud’s expression, visible past the Duke’s shoulder, was thunderous. Sylvio tried to cringe away, but the Duke’s grip was like iron and it felt more likely that he’d wrench his shoulder out before he escaped the hold. “I’m sorry! I’ve never stolen anything from the Palace, I swear!”

The Duke’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Barrerra’s heirloom jewelery went missing a few weeks ago.”

Daud scoffed— in amusement? Sylvio struggled harder; he’d thought Daud valued his presence more than that, that the Duke wasn’t the same as all the other nobles behind their high walls. That Lilith saw him as a friend, or even merely a mentor, close enough that she wouldn’t have played such a cruel prank on him.

This, then, was the other boot coming down. Crushing him as inevitably as the Duke kept him pinned the ground.

“It wasn’t me,” Sylvio insisted weakly, going limp.

“Corvo—” Two people spoke at the same time; when Sylvio managed to twist to see who had spoken with Daud, he had a startling moment of deja vu. Lilith was perhaps an inch or two taller than when Sylvio had first met her, but she stared down at him as dispassionately as she had on that first day.

Then her mouth curled up slightly in one corner, some impenetrable but comforting emotion flickering across her face, before she turned her attention fully to the Duke and her father. “I didn’t know you were back yet.”

The Duke shifted, transferring his weight somehow so that he could straighten up to address her while still pinning Sylvio effortlessly. “The issue was resolved more quickly than the governor anticipated.”

“I’m glad.” Lilith beckoned someone from within the Palace, and a nervous-looking guard stepped into view, Daud’s portrait held awkwardly in his hands. His eyes flicked from the Duke to Daud, though his gaze lingered on Daud; he was probably furious. “Sylvio helped me acquire this for you.”

Daud made an inarticulate noise, almost a growl, but it was almost lost under the frankly delighted sound the Duke made as he rose smoothly to his feet.

“Where did you find it?”

Lilith shrugged. “Sylvio did the legwork.”

Sylvio stayed where he was, his heart pounding in his ears, barely listening to the Duke enthusing over the portrait with Lilith. Daud stepped up beside him, his mouth thinning when Sylvio flinched away. The hand he held out was unwavering, however, and after a moment Sylvio took it. Daud pulled him to his feet easily.

“Now I can’t get rid of it,” Daud muttered resentfully, glaring at the portrait.

Sylvio made a noise that could hopefully be considered sympathetic.

“We’re not putting the damn thing in our bedroom, Corvo!” Daud barked, to no visible effect on either the Duke or Lilith; neither of them even looked up from their conversation about the portrait. Daud fixed Sylvio with a narrow look. “You’ll help me get rid of it.”

“No,” Sylvio said flatly, too wrung out to filter his words. “Void, no. I’m not helping either of you ‘acquire’ anything again. _Ever_.”

“I won’t set you up, Corvo will know I’m behind the painting disappearing,” Daud said impatiently.

“I don’t just want to be a pawn you push around whenever you feel like it!”

Daud blinked at him; it was Lilith who spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen without Sylvio even realizing it. “You’re not.”

“As you say.” Sylvio glanced away, keenly aware of three sets of eyes upon him. At least the guard had disappeared at some point.

“You shouldn’t have been such an asshole to him, Corvo,” Daud muttered.

“ _I_ shouldn’t have— He tried to pick my pocket!”

“Here.” Lilith pressed something into Sylvio’s loose hand. His own coin pouch. “Corvo took it earlier.”

Sylvio groped in his pockets; all empty. The Duke’s expression was a mixture of smug and sheepish as he held out the random junk that Sylvio had accumulated - a handful of small coins, some lint, other miscellaneous items.

“You picked the Duke’s pocket?” Sylvio asked after he’d tucked everything away again.

Lilith shrugged, but the way her eyes crinkled up in the corner suggested a smirk. “Learned from the best.”

The Duke made an outraged noise, but Lilith paid him little mind as she turned to her father.

“I heard you and Corvo talking before he left. I think you should share the arcane bond with Sylvio.” Lilith glanced back at him, then added, “If he wants.”

“Share the what,” Sylvio said blankly.

* * *

Sylvio stared down at the back of his hand a few hours later, that familiar disbelief threatening to overwhelm him again. Daud had explained, in his gruff way, about the Outsider’s mark and the arcane bond he could grant others to share his powers. Sylvio had agreed to it, but despite the evidence - black against his skin - he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

Dukes and Royal Gardeners in want of tutors for their daughter was one thing; _the Outsider of the Void_ was quite literally an entirely different beast.

“I’m sorry.” Lilith joined him at the edge of the roof, dropping down beside him so her legs dangled over the edge, heedless of her fine clothes. “For putting you up to pickpocketing Corvo,” she clarified, glancing up at him. “I was angry at Corvo; I shouldn’t have brought you into it.”

“I should’ve known better than to try to steal from the Duke,” Sylvio pointed out.

“Maybe. But I still shouldn’t have goaded you into it in the first place.”

Sylvio shrugged. It had turned out all right in the end; maybe his shoulder was a little sore, but he shouldn’t have struggled so hard.

“You didn’t even mention my involvement,” Lilith said a few minutes later, her voice sharper than usual.

“What good would that have done?”

Lilith frowned at the sunset in front them; she obviously disagreed, but didn’t seem inclined to argue about it, which was fine with Sylvio. He was content to sit here and watch the sunset with Lilith. And once night had fallen—

“We should test your powers when the sun goes down,” Lilith said, if she could read his mind.

Sylvio grinned.


End file.
